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February 13, 2006

ok, barring a major catastrophe or kate beckinsale coming and begging me to get back together with her, all this week i probably won't be writing about anything but, wait what was it... oh, yeah, the marathon.

in february of 2004, i had just met this girl that briefly had me kinda fascinated. she looked a bit like marisa tomei in the face - there was that. and that, together with a slightly enigmatic personality, was largely enough.

she invited me to come out and help her organization, the austin child guidance center, run a water stop on the freescale marathon course.

it was sunny, but miserable, because it was horribly cold and windy. and, despite a short-lived attempt to reintroduce running into my life years before, i had little connection with running other than the memory of being yelled at and derided by junior-high and high school football coaches.

still, i enjoyed it. runners came by, and seemed so spirited, thanked us, motored on, determined. i saw some people i knew. i was soaked with water and red powerade, which just made the cold into a permeating, inescapable reality,but i thought of how much worse it must be for the runners.

it occurred to me for the first time that yeah, it might be cool to try it someday.

afterards, we went up north to the trudy's sunday brunch buffet, one of my favorite, and most indulgent, eating pleasures. as we waited, we began to see people come in wearing brightly-colored jackets, and wearing shiny, shiny medals on pretty, vibrant ribbons.

i asked one if they had won the medal, and they told me that yes, you get one for finishing.

holy crap, i thought. you just gotta finish. i didn't disrespect the feat by underestimating it, though. i couldn't begin to fathom running that far, but i knew i could pull it off someday, when i finally lost, like, about 80 pounds. and i knew, for the first time, that i wanted it sooner than later.

i wanted one of those freakin' shiny, shiny medals. and i wanted to be able to show up at trudy's with my freakin' shiny, shiny medal and eat all the pancakes and waffles and migas that i wanted, and people wouldn't be able to say shit to me, because, dammit, i just ran a marathon.

there still was no timetable, until later that year, when i accidentally stumbled into a half-marathon training course, and found that i wasn't able to quit it.

i've run five half-marathons now, and gotten five shiny, shiny medals. i ran a 20 mile race and finished. but in six days, i will run my very first marathon.

and it has comsumed me.

i find myself taking detours to drive on parts of the course. i also find myself mumbling, coaching myself through it: "a little incline there, not too much, ride into it, take the top, a little recovery before the next hill. yeah, it kicked your ass in the capitol 10K, but it's just not that bad."

i sit at work with my shoes off, icing my right foot and left ankle. i will likely injure my back before the race trying to turn 180 degrees from the table the phone is on to my computer on the desk, without moving my ice-bound feet.

i keep bringing the marathon up awkwardly in conversations, enough that even i am annoyed by it.

"yeah, that's weird about dick cheney shooting that dude. i hope he's
not out on the marathon course, heh heh. yeah, that's this weekend..."

"yeah I've got that default hearing next tuesday morning. would a
pewter-colored medal go OK with this suit? cause, i'll be getting one when i finish the marathon this sunday, you know."

tonight, sitting with a couple of my coffeeshop coworkers, i tested my mettle, refraining from speaking of the marathon at all. a couple of times, i saw openings: when a homeless guy with a harmonica came by our sidewalk table ("in addition to lots of bands, they have high school bands, mariachis, and even bagpipers on the marathon course"); when a car honked its horn ("man, a lotta people get pissed when they have to wait for hours at intersections that have been blocked off for the race"); and even when someone had to go the bathroom ("yeah, i gotta be real careful about how much i eat and drink in the days before the race, and especially that morning. can't run if i have to pee, much less if i gotta, you know...")

i've tried all week to see the rooftop billboard atop the lake austin location of the Run Tex Store for Psychotic Running People, from my office, from the congress avenue bridge driving or riding my bike home. i finally just drove by today, and i'm bummed that last year's big yellow "Showtime" sign isn't up.

i'm on the phone trying to convince a dentist that no, dental assistants can't be putting IV needles in patients, but i'm visualizing, for the 124th time that day, me picking up speed across the first street bridge in the last mile, then rounding the curve into the last 100 meters. i think about how much it'll hurt and how scared i'll be at the fact that i can't breathe, but i also remember how i can hear the crowd respond when they see someone break into a dead sprint at the end. the people, they like a strong finish. i long for the feeling in those seconds, when nothing else matters - not how i feel then, or what'll happen to me after i cross the finish line. it's just moving. they can bury me with my shiny, shiny medal.

over the course of the last year, i would get a bit down on the idea of running a marathon from time to time, questioning how much it could really mean. a few people i had even known for some period of time revealed that, oh yeah, they ran a marathon once. it seemed like everyone had done it, everyone could just up and do it. one of these people told me that running my first half-marathon was a cop-out, and that i should just run the full one.

sometimes, i'm still not so sure how to put all that into perspective. but i do know that i have trained really hard for six months. and actually, i've been working hard for this since that stupid, fateful and/or serendipidous evening in september 2004. i've known other people, friends and brothers and sisters in arms now, that have come out and given everything they've had, running at speed for miles on tracks, running hill workouts hard in the dark, in the rain, in the heat, in the cold.

i can't speak to the experiences those other people had, the ones that made it seem like no big deal. maybe there are some people who could just up and complete a marathon with little to no preparation. but i know that my friends and i have worked hard, pushed ourselves harder physically than the vast majority of people will ever voluntarily push themselves.

the other night, the leader of our training program, steve sisson, spoke to 150-200 trainees at our pre-race party. he broke down the course in terms of topography and biomechanics, but also in terms of psychology, and spirituality.

he spoke of pain, and how the greatest thing about what we do is not so much what our bodies are or become capable of, but our ability to put the pain in perspective. he didn't talk about ignoring pain, but almost of embracing it, and making a choice in what we do with it. that is what we have earned with all of our work, and our focus.

he said that whether it's the first time, or the 50th time someone crosses the finish line of a marathon, that person will never be the same.

so i will mumble, i will talk, i will get emotional, i will ice my foot, i will visualize, i will ask a few friends to be there to witness, i will relish and revel in every moment of this week and those four and a half hours, because i've earned the right to do so, because this says more about me and about who i want to be than anything else in my life right now, other than the words that come out of me. if nothing else is, then at the very least, this race is mine.

Posted by Rob at February 13, 2006 11:11 PM

Comments

Posted by: Paul at February 14, 2006 08:49 AM

Posted by: Tara at February 14, 2006 08:51 AM

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